


Endgame: Amendment

by FourCornersHolmes



Series: MCU Misadventures [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Did I Mention Angst?, Divergent Timelines, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Multi, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Rules? What Rules?, Sorry Not Sorry, Stony - Freeform, Time Travel Fix-It, Time travelling Steve Rogers, What Was I Thinking?, Why Did I Write This?, mentioned relationships, no i am not sorry, yes I went there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-03-10 01:36:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18928660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourCornersHolmes/pseuds/FourCornersHolmes
Summary: Following the events of Avengers: Endgame, Steve Rogers finds himself in serious trouble. Having successfully returned all of the Infinity Stones to their rightful times, places, and owners (when he could manage), he returns to a very different Manhattan. The world is a very different place without Tony Stark, and when Steve shows symptoms of Late-Stage 3 Hanahaki Disease three months after starting his solo mission, he finds himself running out of options.





	1. Years Of The Past

**Author's Note:**

> Angst : Check.  
> Hanahaki Disease : Check  
> Steve Rogers pining for Tony Stark and being a first-rate idiot : check  
> Love between two consenting adults : Check  
> Eventual Happy Ending? : Check, check, and...check  
> ::  
> I wrote this for the AO3 Armada May prompt/challenge because I apparently have no self-control.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Infinity Stones have been returned to their proper times, places, and forms, and now Steve Rogers has a different problem. He's been coughing and short of breath for a few months now, but things are getting worse. Now he's coughing up flower-petals.

* * *

* * *

It was with a heavy heart, and a growing sense of dread, that Steve Rogers said goodbye to the peaceful sanctuary of Kamar-Taj. He had no reason to stay here; he had done his duty and returned the Time Stone to its rightful place and time, if not at least the rightful owner. And as it was the last of the six Infinity Stones to _be_ returned, his primary task was complete. Finally. Thank God.

“Captain Rogers.” A hand on his shoulder, slim, pale, and powerful, stopped him in his tracks as if the sound of her voice wasn’t enough.

“Yes, ma’am?” He turned to the Ancient One, averting his gaze out of respect.

“Look at me, Steve.”

“I…can't do that, ma’am.”

“Steven Grant Rogers, you look at me.” Her tone of voice brooked no argument or disobedience, and Steve obediently raised his eyes until he could meet her gaze.

“Good. Now, I know what troubles you.” Her expression was kind, despite the severity in her voice. “What I want to know is, what are you going to _do_ about it?”

“I…I don’t know, ma’am.”

“You are clearly missing a loved one, you have told me as much before.” She smiled kindly, wisely.

“Well, yes, ma’am. Of course, I am.” He stood his ground. “But...”

“No buts, Captain Rogers. Listen to me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Seek out this missing loved one and if it is requited love between you, then you will begin to heal.” Her expression tightened a bit. “But take care with your heart, do not mistake puppy-love for the real thing.”

“I don’t understand, ma’am,” Steve said quietly.

“Do not simply settle with the person you think is who you want. Who you have been _told_ you should want.” Her voice took on a note of solemnity, her expression likewise shifted, and that sense of disquiet deepened. “The one you grieve for, long for, may not be the one you think will cure your ills.”

“Oh. Yes, ma’am. I...think I understand.” He didn’t understand at all, but that was kind of besides the point. Then again, she was a rather unusual individual.

“But you are always welcome to return to Kamar-Taj to seek out our services if you require further guidance or help of any manner.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He truly was grateful, even if her advice was a little unusual. She saw him out of the sanctuary but stopped him on the street.

“Oh, and Steve?”

“Yes, ma’am?” He turned and looked at her curiously.

“You _do_ have a time-travel device with you, you shouldn’t be afraid to use it.” The Ancient One smiled serenely, “Just be smart with how you use it.”

“Oh. Yes, ma’am.  Thank you, ma’am.”

“Good luck, Captain Rogers. You have a struggle ahead of you, I wish you nothing but peace and healing.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He offered a timid salute and set off on his way. He had no idea where to go, or even _when_ to go.

 

For the moment, Steve returned home to New York, to Avengers Tower in Manhattan. He only stayed long enough to make sure everything was alright with the rest of the team, those who had survived the final confrontation with Thanos and the Restoration, before heading upstate to Tony Stark’s lake house to pay his respects, again, to the man’s girlfriend and daughter. He knew for good intel that Pepper and Morgan were still living at the house, they hadn’t moved back to Manhattan yet. If they ever did move back, that was. Happy Hogan, Tony’s long-time driver and body-guard, lived with them, and the rest of the team visited regularly.

 

It was hard to drive up to the house by himself, the last time he’d been here had been for Tony’s funeral. As he got slowly out of the Ford sedan he had rented to drive up here, the front door slammed open and a dark-haired blur came flying out of the house.

“Uncle Steve! Uncle Steve!”

“Hey there, kiddo!” Steve put on a smile for Morgan Stark, who launched herself at him, knowing damn well he would catch her every time. “Oh, you are getting _heavy_ , Morgan! Won’t be long before this old man can’t hold you up anymore!”

“You’re not _old_ , Uncle Steve!” She giggled, throwing her arms around his neck, “I missed you.”

“Oh, I know you did, kiddo. I know you did.” He sighed and kissed her on the cheek, “I missed you, too. Is your mom around?”

“She’s inside.” Morgan frowned, a wrinkle forming between her little eyes, her father’s eyes they were. “Are you here on business, Uncle Steve?”

“Well, sort of. I’ve got some news for your mama. Come on, you.” He heaved her over one shoulder, causing her to shriek, and headed into the house.

“Is that you, Steve?” Pepper Potts called from the kitchen.

“Hi, Pepper.”

“We weren’t expecting you until next week, is everything okay?”

“Everything’s…great.” He coughed as he headed into the kitchen. The coughing fits were far more frequent now, and his skin-tone was ashen and mottled over. A recent x-ray had revealed buds in his lungs, sure signs of late-Stage 3.

“Sorry about that.” He apologized as he caught his breath.

“Sit down, Steve.” Pepper just shoved a glass of water into his hands and pointed to the living room. “Morgan, get down from there, you know better.”

“But he doesn’t mind, Moma!” Morgan said from her piggy-back perch on Steve’s back. Steve chuckled as he took a sip of water.

“I don’t _mind_ , Morgan, but I can’t hold you up like I used to, kiddo.”

“Is it because you’re sick, Uncle Steve?” Morgan asked in that blunt way of curious children as she slid from his back and landed on the floor at his feet, where she promptly attached herself to his left leg.

“Yeah, that’s a lot of it.” He sighed and carefully shook her loose as he headed into the living room and sat down. Morgan was, of course, quick to join him and sat curled up against him as she regaled him with stories of her latest misadventures. Happy appeared and asked how he was doing, how the mission to return the stones had gone.

“I got them all back where and when they belonged, more or less.” He rubbed Morgan’s shoulders as she played with the buttons of his flannel shirt, humming to herself. “My last stop was in Nepal.”

“So it’s all done?”

“Yeah, it’s all done.” He shook his head, covering his mouth as another coughing fit took him.

“Have you seen a doctor lately, Captain?”

“Last time I was near a good hospital that had anyone on their staff who knew what they were looking at.” He sighed, clearing his throat. It wouldn’t surprise him one bit if he started coughing up flower-petals tomorrow.

“When, Steve?” Pepper asked pointedly.

“Two months ago.”

“What did they say?”

“Late-Stage 3.”

“Are you going to die, Uncle Steve?” Morgan asked, leaning her head back to look up at him.

“No, Morgan. I don’t think so. I’ll try not to.” He leaned over and kissed her on the temple, “I’ve gotta stick around so I can keep an eye on you and Peter, don’t I? Your dad asked me to, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Morgan sniffled. “You miss him, too, don’t you, Uncle Steve?”

“Every day, Morgan. Every. Day.” And he really did. For all of the problems he and Tony had had, all of the fights they’d gotten into with each other, Steve had always considered Tony one of his most reliable friends, even a best friend. He would always have Bucky, they had been friends since childhood, but Tony was…different.

“Do you have an idea who it might be, Steve?” Pepper asked carefully. Steve shook his head. He honestly didn’t. There were a few possibilities, but he _knew_ it wasn’t Bucky. It wasn’t like that between them. They had talked long about their relationship, and Steve knew he would always have Bucky to turn to, that Bucky would _always_ have his six, but he and Bucky didn’t _love_ each other that way. And that was fine with them.

“Maybe you should look for Peggy Carter.” Happy said quietly. “You always seemed awfully fond of her, didn’t you, sir?” He had considered Peggy Carter and guessed that since he _knew_ it wasn’t Bucky, the worst he could do was try with Peggy. Steve sighed, felt his chest tighten as he coughed. 

“But what if it’s _not_ Peggy?” He asked once the fit was past and Morgan had given him water. “What then?”

“Come back here and we’ll figure it out.” Pepper smiled and leaned across to take his hand, squeezing firmly. “You won’t know until you’ve tried, Steve. It wasn’t Bucky, was it?”

“No, we’re not…we’re not like _that_. He’s one of my best friends, but that’s all I need him to be. This is…” He trailed off.

“This is something different.” Pepper’s expression was soft and sad, but it wasn’t pity he saw in her eyes.

“What do I do, Pepper?”                                                                                                                                                             

“Go find Peggy. If it turns out she’s not the right one, either, come home and we’ll start looking.”

“You don’t…you don’t mind?”

“Absolutely not. Morgan’s going to miss you, of course, so don’t be too long.” Pepper smiled in that way of hers and winked. Steve chuckled and pressed a kiss to the dark head resting on his shoulder.

“Well, I guess I’d better get on my way, then.” He knew it was better to get this out of the way sooner than later, drawing it out wouldn’t do him any good. “You gotta scram, pipsqueak.”

“Pipsqueak!” Morgan gave him a dirty look as he pushed her off his lap. She landed in an indignant heap at his feet. “Don’t _drop_ me, Uncle Steve!”

“Sorry, kiddo. I’ve got work to do. But I’ll come back, okay?” He reached down and ruffled her hair, “Be a good girl while I’m gone, Morgan Stark.” Getting up, he took his glass to the kitchen and rinsed and set in the dishwasher. Then he collected his coat and keys and headed for the car.

“Uncle Steve?” Morgan came running after him, leaning against his car as he got in and started the engine.

“Yeah, Squeaks?”

“Can I have your shield?”

“Why? I’m coming back for it.”

“Can I keep it until you come back?”

“Oh, I guess you can.” He chuckled and leaned out the window. “Are you going to use it for a sled, then?”

“Can I? Please, can I?” She gave him the sweetest, saddest brown puppy-eyed look, “Pease, Uncle Steve?”

“Well, I guess you can’t really hurt it. Just be careful with it, alright?”

“Okay!” She bounced on her toes, “Love you 3000, Uncle Steve!”

“Love you 3000, Pipsqueak.” He smiled, “Kiss.” She pulled herself up and into the car to give him a kiss.

“Be safe, Uncle Steve! Come back soon. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” He smiled.

“Pinky promise!”

“Oh, alright. Pinky promise.” He hooked his pinky around hers, “I’ll come back soon. Take care of your mama for me, alright?”

“Yes, sir!” She gave him a cockeyed salute and dropped down onto her feet, watching until his car was out of sight and waving the whole time.

* * *

* * *

 


	2. No Guarantees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve sets off for 1948 Manhattan to find Peggy Carter as the search continues for a way to stall or cure his rapidly-advancing Hanahaki Disease (known in the medical community as Hanahaki Byou, or Hanahaki B.). He knows it's not Bucky Barnes he's grieving for, and his choices are very limited. If it's not Peggy Carter, then who's left?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited a bit. Mostly just switched up some dates. It's...important for later. You'll see.

* * *

* * *

After his visit to the Stark Residence, Steve spent a few days weighing his options and debating how and when to best reunite with Peggy Carter. In the end, it was Bucky who forced Steve to make his move. He woke up one morning to find Bucky standing over his bed, fully dressed and ready to go…somewhere.

“Buck?” He blinked up at his friend, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Get up. We’re going.”

“What? Going where?” He rubbed his eyes, “What time is it?”

“It’s 6 am.” Bucky dragged the blankets off of the bed, “Come on, get moving.”

“Bucky, what is wrong with you?” Steve croaked as a coughing fit rattled in his chest and throat. Bucky sat him up as he started coughing, holding him by the shoulders as he felt something get stuck in his throat, giving him a solid smack on the back. He coughed up something solid, heavy, and wet. He spat out the object before he choked on it, and grimaced at the small, misshapen clump of organic material in his hand. Blood, tissue, and…flower petals? Oh, that couldn’t be good.

“That’s not because of me.” Bucky’s voice was calm and matter-of-fact. “Here, give that here.”

“Why?”

“Just … give it to me, Steve. I’m not gonna throw it away or anything.” Bucky held out one hand and he handed over the disgusting clump of matter. Bucky retreated to the bathroom, and he heard the sound of running water after some clattering around and muttering. After a while, Bucky came back with a small dish in one hand.

“What is it?” He asked, almost afraid to get an answer.

“I’m no botanist, so I have no idea what I’m looking at,” Bucky said as he held out the little soap-dish. On the dish were a few wet, blood-stained petals. Tiny, delicate petals in blue and pink.

“They look like, uh, forget-me-nots. But I can’t be sure.” Steve was no botanist himself, and woefully ignorant of the language of flowers and what different flowers meant.

“Who would be able to tell us?”

“I think…” Steve coughed again, but didn’t cough up any more flowers, “Um, I think Strange might know, or Jane Foster might?”

“You think so?”

“Can’t hurt to _ask_ , can it?” He frowned, clearing his throat. Bucky gave him some water and let him take a shower and get dressed.

 

The very first thing they did was pay a visit to Sanctum Sanctorum, calling on Stephen Strange. Steve wouldn’t consider the two of them great friends, but he definitely considered Strange a _good_ friend. Especially following the Restoration and its aftermath.

 

Strange’s friend and fellow sorcerer, Master Wong, answered the door to them, and the expression on his face when he recognized Steve was all the proof he needed that this was getting worse. Much worse.

“Strange!” Wong shouted over his shoulder as he let them into the mansion. “Strange, hurry!”

“Who is it, Wong?” They heard Strange’s voice from another part of the house. Steve thought it telling that Strange asked “Who is it?” not “What is it?”

“It’s Captain Rogers! He looks awful! Hurry up!” Wong yelled, ushering Steve and Bucky to a little parlor and offering them both hot tea.

“What on earth is wrong, Captain? You look terrible.” He said, clearly concerned by the sudden appearance of Steve Rogers on their doorstep looking far worse than he had three months ago.

“Late-Stage 3 Hanahaki Disease, Master Wong.” Steve took the offered cup. “I’m sorry to barge in like this, but…we need your help.”

“I don’t think _I_ can help you, but Strange could.” Wong looked at him sadly. “We can’t lose another one, Captain. Please don’t die.”

“I’ll try not to, Wong.” He smiled faintly. “I saw you at Tony’s funeral, that was nice of you to show up.”

“We weren’t going to miss his funeral, Captain.” And there was Strange, looking remarkably _normal_ this time. He wore a pair of well-worn blue jeans and a hoodie, and if those weren’t Chuck Taylors Steve needed his eyes checked.

“Strange.” Steve got slowly to his feet. “Sorry about this.”

“Be sorry if you end up dead.” Strange looked him over, “How advanced is it now?”

“Late-Stage 3, potentially into Stage 4.”

“What symptoms of Stage 4 are you showing?”

“I coughed these up an hour ago.” Steve reached into his pocket for the Ziploc baggie in his pocket, handing it to Strange. “I’m not sure what they are. I mean, I know _what_ they are, I just don’t … ”

“You don’t know which kind.” Strange took the sealed bag and studied it’s contents curiously. “Hm. Look like forget-me-nots. Interesting that you’ve begun to cough these up. And worrying. It’s clearly not Sergeant Barnes.”

“No, it’s  …  it’s not Bucky.” Steve looked at Bucky, who squeezed his hand supportively. “Uh, Pepper … she thinks I should look for … ” He broke off coughing. When the fit passed, he had coughed up a few more petals, blue this time.

“You were saying?” Strange prompted gently after he had recovered enough to talk, giving him another cup of tea and discarded the tissue Steve had used to contain the clot of material. The original sample would be kept so that Strange could figure out if they really were forget-me-not petals or another species of flower.

“Sorry. No, um. Pepper thinks I should look for Peggy Carter.”

“Do _you_ think you should look for Peggy Carter?” Strange asked, giving him a pointed look that reminded him so much of The Ancient One he had a momentary flashback to that very conversation. What was it she had said to him?

 _“Do not simply settle with the person you think is who you want. Who you have been_ told _you should want.”_ Her voice sounded as clear as if she was there in the room, speaking to him in person. _“The one you grieve for, long for, may not be the one you think will cure your ills.”_

“Captain?”

“I don’t … who else could it _be_?” He shook his head and sipped the hot tea. “If not Peggy, then…”

“We will help you in any way we can, Captain Rogers,” Wong said quietly.

“We’re here for you, Steve. For whatever you need of us.” Strange added, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be afraid to ask for help. And please, don’t _settle_. You deserve so much more than settling.”

“Settling could damn well kill me, Stephen.” He looked up at the Master of the Manhattan Sanctum. “I don’t want to die.”

“Be careful.” Strange held out one hand to him, “And take care with your heart.”

“You know, someone else told me the same thing once. Not that long ago.” He tightened his grip on Strange’s hand as the clever Master pulled him to his feet. “I think she was on to something, but if I don’t at least try to find Peggy Carter, I won’t know.”

“Good luck, then, Captain.” Strange smiled and surprised Steve with a hug. It was unexpected, but Steve didn’t really mind. Knowing that he was running out of time, Steve set off with Bucky. Time to go backward, back to 1948 Manhattan, and find Peggy Carter. He had just randomly picked 1948, it seemed a safe bet. But first, he had one more stop to make. Someone he wanted to say goodbye to, in case he didn’t make it back.

 

Steve visited Arlington National Cemetery with Bucky and found his way to a particular grave-site. There was a white headstone in a private section of the cemetery, with Tony’s full name, “Iron Man” inscribed on the line below, his dates of birth and death, and the words “Beloved Father, Best Friend, Patriot, Earth’s Greatest Defender” at the bottom on two inscribed lines of text. And above the text, an engraving of the Arc Reactor that had kept him alive for so long and made him the man he had become. In full, the cover-stone read as follows:

 

_**Anthony “Tony” Edward Stark** _

_**Iron Man** _

_**May 23, 1970 – February 23, 2023** _

_**Beloved Father, Best Friend, Patriot** _

_**Earth’s Greatest Defender** _

 

It wasn’t the primary site, of course, but Pepper had given him a small urn with some of Tony’s ashes following his cremation and funeral at the Residence. Steve laid a little arrangement of roses and forget-me-nots (pink and blue, of course) at the base of the marker and touched the smooth white marble with shaking, mottled, blood-stained fingers.

“We did it, Tony. It’s over. You can rest easy now.” He whispered hoarsely, covering another coughing fit and pocketing a tissue stained with bloody petals when it was past. “I’m going to see if I can find Peggy, maybe do something about this … disease that’s killing me. But I’ll come back and visit, I promise. I’ll try.”

“Come on, Steve,” Bucky said gently, touching him on the elbow. “Let’s go. Peggy is waiting.” 

“Yeah. Okay.” Steven sniffled and looked one last time at the marker. “See you, Tony.” Walking away, his chest felt tight and he felt sick at heart. It was the disease advancing into Stage 4, he knew that and wished he knew how to stop it.

* * *

* * *

 


	3. Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve makes it to 1948, but makes no progress towards healing. In fact, he gets worse. He reunites and reconciles with Peggy Carter and Howard Stark, and then moves on with his life. He has no place in their lives, and he can't force them to be part of his, so...what options does he have left?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst. All the angst. If you're a Steggy shipper, this is not for you.

* * *

* * *

By the time Steve showed up at Peggy Carter’s doorstep, in the proper time and place, he looked a bit more like himself, a bit more like Captain America, but it was obvious he was sick. It had taken a bit of searching to find Peggy, but find her they had and now it was time to make his past his future. Or at least, try to make his past his future.

“Well, I guess this is it.” Bucky looked up at the house they had come to.

“Yep.” Steve sighed and looked at Bucky, turning to put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Don't do anything stupid until I come back.”

“How can I?” Bucky tried to smile, he really did. “You're taking all the stupid with you.”

“See you later, Bucky.”

“You know where to find me, Steve.” Bucky gave him a hug and pushed him towards the house. “I’ll stay here until you get through the door.”

“Thanks for everything, Buck.”

“Go _on_ , you idiot.” Bucky rolled his eyes, “Before I ring that damn doorbell for you!”

“Fine, fine.” Steve sighed and went up to the door, pressing the doorbell with a sense of mounting unease. He shouldn’t be afraid of this, he shouldn’t be feeling so ill at ease, but something in his head was telling him this was a mistake. But before he could change his mind and run, the door opened. The person who answered the door was _not_ Peggy Carter. In fact, Steve had no idea who the man standing in the doorway was supposed to be.

“Can I...help you, sir?” The man asked carefully. Steve looked over his shoulder at Bucky, who made a “go on” motion with one hand.

“Uh. S-sorry to bother you, sir.” He looked at the man again, “Does Margaret Carter live here?”

“Who?”

“I’m so sorry.” He cleared his throat after a brief coughing fit. Not again. “Does Margaret Carter live here, sir? I was told this was her address.”

“Who, Peggy?”                                              

“Y-yes. Is she home right now?”

“Yes, she is. Who are you?”

“I’m Steve Rogers, sir. I’m a...friend of hers.”

“Rogers?”

“Yes, sir. Steve Rogers.”

“Oh my god!” The man’s eyes widened, “Steve! What are you...hold it, how are you _alive_!” At the same moment the man threw his arms around Steve, Steve recognized him.

“Howard Stark?” God, he really did look like Tony.

“Jesus Christ, boy, where have you _been_?” Howard Stark pulled him into the house. “They said you’d crashed that plane in the Arctic! Come inside, right now!”

“Did you find the Tesseract yet?”

“Yeah, but we couldn’t...Jesus, I can’t believe this!” Howard put an arm around his shoulders, guiding him through the house. “You look like hell, son!”

“Thanks.”

“Peggy! Peggy, look who just showed up!” Howard yelled, “Back from the dead!”

“Steve!” Peggy Carter, still gorgeous, young, and just the way he remembered her from their younger days, was on her feet in a heartbeat as they entered the living room. “What are you doing here?”

“I...came to see you. I had to see you.” He covered a coughing fit.

“Steve, you look awful, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t think you’d...believe me. Can I have a glass of water, please?”

“Of course!”

“If you have any biologics or neutralizers handy, could I bother you for a few?”

“How long have you been sick, Steve?” Howard steered him towards a chair and sat him down while Peggy rushed to the kitchen to find the things he’d asked for. Thankfully, even back in the 40s, Hanahaki Disease had been a known ailment. Just add it to his very long medical history of problems.

“Three months?”

“Looks like you’re in Stage 4 now.”

“Yes.”

“Any ideas?”

“A few. But one’s already...been eliminated.” He took the glass of water and two pills that Peggy gave him. It helped a little, but it wasn’t enough. The tense quiet was broken by a strange sound that, if not for his familiarity with Morgan Stark, would have been very alien to Steve. It still was, but not as much.

“Oh, sounds like the little monster’s awake.” Howard rolled his eyes. “I’ll take care of it, Peg.”

“Are you sure, Howard?”

“Absolutely! You two have some talking to get done, I can handle baby-duty for a while!” Howard just smiled and patted Steve on the shoulder as he headed upstairs. “Good to see you again, Steve. Welcome back.”

“Thanks.” He muttered. As soon as he was gone, Steve looked at Peggy, who wouldn’t look at him at all.

“Peggy?”

“I’m...so sorry, Steve. I didn’t want to.”

“Are you happy with him?”

“Yes, very. Andrew is a wonderful man, and understands that I can’t...talk about certain things.”

“Oh, so you _didn’t_...” He looked over his shoulder.

“Oh, no! No, not with Howard!” Peggy blushed to the roots of her hair. “God, Steve! I wouldn’t!”

“Well, at least you have someone else to talk to about me.” He leaned back. “Peggy?”

“Hmm?”

“Was there...ever a chance at an “us”?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Because I want you to tell me, straight, to my face.” He held up one hand as another coughing fit took him. This time, it wasn’t petals, it was an entire bloom. He made it as far as the bathroom, landed hard on his knees by the toilet. She was there when he could breathe again, holding a cold cloth to his face, cleaning him up.

“Peggy, do you love me?”

“Of course, I do!” She said soothingly, “I always will! I always _have_!”

“Then _why_...”

“Because I don’t love you that way, Steve. I’m not the one you love so much your body is slowly breaking up. You were one-of-a-kind, you always have been, but don’t keep chasing something that you can’t have.” Peggy sounded sad as she rubbed his shoulders, a slow, soothing motion. Those words, gently spoken, were like vines around his heart. Which wasn’t just a metaphor anymore, if he really was in Stage 4.

 

Steve put his head down on folded arms and groaned. It _wasn’t_ Peggy, then. Well, at least he knew that now. Who was left, then? Tony? But Tony was _dead_ , and that was kind of the whole point of the disease, wasn’t it? One-sided, unrequited love and yearning for a dead loved one? Peggy stayed with him until another fit was past and then showed him their guest-bedroom, giving him something to help him sleep.

 

He didn’t sleep well, haunted by nightmares and flashbacks of Tony’s death, of Tony in peril at different moments in their relationship. The thrill he felt fighting side-by-side with Tony, the heartbreak when they were pitted against each other by Helmut Zemo, the relief when they made up their differences. Watching Tony settle into a domestic life with Pepper once it came out that she was pregnant, resigning himself to losing Tony to the kind of life they both wanted but couldn’t dare to hope for. But then Tony and Pepper never married, they just...decided to raise Morgan together even though they weren’t married. Why hadn’t Tony married Pepper? They had a child together, didn’t they? It made sense for Tony to marry the mother of his beautiful, sassy daughter, didn’t it?

 

It was well after dark when Steve woke up from a particularly grueling nightmare, and he simply got up, got dressed in the dark, and left the bedroom. Going downstairs, he found Peggy and Howard in the sitting-room with a man who must have been Andrew. Seeing him in the doorway, Peggy and Howard got up.

“Are you leaving, Captain?”

“I should...get home.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been gone a little too long.”

“Can you get home alright by yourself?”

“I know where I’m going.” He took Peggy’s hand in his and leaned in, kissing her on the cheek. “Thank you, Peggy. I’m...glad I stopped by, it was great to see you again.”

“I’m glad you stopped by, too, Steve. I wish you could stay.”

“I don’t need to. I know you’re...you have a whole life ahead of you. Don’t worry about me.” He looked past her to her husband. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to properly meet you, sir, but I’m glad Peggy has you in her life. Be good to her for me, she’s one hell of a lady.”

“Likewise, Captain Rogers. Are you sure you can’t stay the night?”

“No, I should be on my way. Don’t worry, I know where I’m going and exactly how to get there.” He looked at Howard and held out one hand. “Thanks for everything, Howard.”

“No problem, Steve. Be careful out there.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He just smiled and let himself out of the house.

 

As he walked away from the house, waving to Peggy and Howard as they watched from the stoop, he caught sight of Bucky coming up on his left.

“Steve, what happened in there?” Bucky asked as they made their way along dark, familiar streets together. “I thought you would stay there.”

“It wasn’t Peggy, either, Buck.” He said simply.

“Who is it, then?”

“Tony Stark.”

“Oh my god.” Bucky looked heartbroken, “Oh my god, Steve!”

“Come on, Bucky.” He took his friend’s hand in his. “Let’s go home.” It was time to find Tony Stark. It was time to go home and heal. So, they made their careful way back to 2023, back to their proper present, and he tried to plan out his next course of action. He didn’t have much time left, the clock was very quickly running out for Steve Rogers. What a hell of a way to go.

* * *

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	4. Depths Of The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve contemplates his next move. Time is running out, and he knows what has to be done, he's just...not sure how to go about doing it in the first place.

* * *

* * *

Three days later, Steve revisited Tony’s grave in Arlington by himself. He hadn’t come empty-handed, of course, not today. He laid a small bouquet of roses, daisies, and tulips by the marker and sat down by the headstone, resting against the white marble as he leaned his head back to look up at the sky. It was a cloudless, warm day, but the weather certainly didn’t suit Steve’s mood. Along with the flowers, Steve had a little cupcake with a single candle stuck in the icing and a bottle of beer. Opening the beer and lighting the candle, Steve quietly sang “Happy Birthday” to himself and then blew out the candle.

“Happy birthday, Tony.” He raised the bottle to the clear sky, “Wherever you are.” Between sips of beer and fits of coughing, Steve ate the cupcake by himself.

 

He had been coughing up forget-me-not blossoms for the past three days, but every x-ray showed no progression of Stage 4, and Doctor Strange suggested that it was possible the disease had in fact stalled. That was fine with Steve, who had turned down the suggestion of surgery to remove the disease at every turn it was presented. He wasn’t interested in that.

 

When he returned to the Avengers Facility, Bucky was once again there to give him another nudge towards whatever future awaited him.

“Wait, you want me to do _what_?” Steve stared at Bucky in disbelief. He honestly couldn’t make sense of the bizarre request.

“You heard me. Go back to 1945. To Switzerland.”

“But...when?”

“Do you remember the train?”

“The day I lost you?” Steve had never forgotten that day.

“Yeah.” Bucky took his hand and smiled. “Go back to that day, Steve, and make sure HYDRA doesn’t get their hands on me.”

“But...”

“Just trust me, kid.” Bucky looked him dead in the eye. “With you ‘til the end of the line, buddy.”

“Thanks, Bucky.” Steve hugged his old friend and got ready to make another quick trip to the past. One of these days, he’d stop jumping around between times. It really wasn’t healthy, even Hank Pym and Scott Lang had warned him about this back when they began planning out the Time Heists.

 

In the end, Steve did go back to 1945. But not the precise moment Bucky had fallen from the train. Instead, he went back to 1945 and infiltrated the HYDRA base right before Bucky woke up in HYDRA custody for the first time. He couldn’t have timed it more perfectly and took out any guards or personnel he came across. Following the sounds of screaming, he burst into a recovery-room and found utter chaos. Steve brought his shield to bear and threw it, firing his side-arm at those not knocked out by the shield-throws. As soon as everyone was either dead or incapacitated, which really didn’t take _that_ long since this kind of things was old hat for Steve, he rushed to the table and the thrashing man, who was screaming and cursing. Getting Bucky out of the restraints didn’t take very long, but as soon as he realized that he was truly was free, Bucky lunged for Steve. He had expected this and reacted accordingly.  They fought for a while, Steve carefully driving Bucky to freedom as he fought against his childhood friend.  

 

As soon as they were out, which included hijacking a pair of HYDRA motorcycles and a dangerous high-speed chase through the forest roads, Steve knew what he had to do. A cognitive hard reset should about do the trick, and he knew exactly what to do and exactly _how_ to do it. Getting ahead of Bucky’s bike, Steve swung around and block his advance, watching as Bucky sped closer. Bringing his shield around, he took aim and launched it. He watched, and when Bucky went flying off the bike, he heaved a sigh of relief and recalled the shield to him before he went to investigate. Keeping his guard up, he made sure Bucky was good and out cold, which he was. And then he decided it was time to get lost. Heaving Bucky over his shoulders, Steve set off into the forest on foot. He hiked until nightfall, at which time he took shelter and planned his next move. For all anyone on that base knew, Bucky had escaped on his own. And that was…fine.

 

It was just before dawn that Bucky regained consciousness, and Steve was there for him.

“Bucky!” He grabbed the metal hand in his and squeezed, “Bucky, stop! Stop!”

“Hah!” Bucky lunged into a sitting position and grabbed Steve by the shoulders, gasping for breath. “Wh-what happened? Where are we?”

“I have no idea where we are, but considering we haven’t been found yet, properly lost is my best guess.” Steve closed his hands around Bucky’s wrists, “Bucky, look at me?” He waited for brown eyes to focus on him and smiled once they did.

“S-Steve?”

“Hi, Bucky.”

“Where did _you_ come from?” Bucky let go of him out of shock as much as for any other reason, staring at him like a startled animal.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He sat back and looked at his best friend, “How do you feel?”

“I don’t know. My head’s all…scrambled. Things don’t seem…”

“That’s okay, Buck. We’ll get out of here.”

“How? Where the hell could we go?” Bucky stared at him in surprise as he stood up and collected his shield. “I mean, I’m as good as dead and you just went AWOL, they are _not_ going to be happy to see us.”

“Do you trust me?” He shouldered his shield and held out one hand to Bucky, chuckling to himself in his head for the bad Disney pun.

“What?” And Bucky played right into his hands.

“Do you trust me?” He repeated the question and gave Bucky his most charming smile.

“Yes?” Bucky took his hand and let Steve drag him to his feet. “But you still haven’t told me where we’re going or how we’re going to get there.”

“Somewhere very far away from here.” He looked around and made sure they hadn’t left anything behind. Then, keeping one hand on Bucky, he sent them forward in time to 1990.

 

They ended up in Manhattan on a warm Saturday afternoon, he guessed sometime in May or June, and the first thing he did was find shelter and a change of clothes for both of them. It took some searching, but he managed to locate a vacant S.H.I.E.L.D. safe-house that he remembered from the future, his former present. He had a key that would unlock the door of every one of the safe-houses, should he ever find himself in need of one.

“Where are we, Steve?” Bucky asked as he closed the door once they were both inside, making sure to lock up before he turned on the lights.

“This is a safe-house. We can recover and plan our next move from here without worrying about anyone bothering us.”

“Who the hell do _you_ know to get a safe-house? Or a key to one?” Bucky looked around, “This looks like a damn nice place.”

“A...friend of mine.” He hesitated for a minute. This was actually one of Tony’s safe-houses, he hadn’t thought of that when he came here.

“Steve.”

“Hmm?”

“What year is this?”

“1990.” He turned to find Bucky staring out the window in amazement. “Welcome to the future, Buck.”

“Oh my god.”

“Take a shower and get some rest, you’re going to need it. There’s a lot you need to catch up on.” Steve led Bucky to the second bedroom and helped him through the process of showering, getting dressed, and gave him a sedative to help him sleep. While Bucky slept, Steve did some house-keeping before taking a shower of his own and following his own advice to get some sleep. They were safe for the moment, so he could take a break.

* * *

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	5. Manhattan Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky meet an old friend, get caught up on everything they missed in the time-jump from 1945 to 1990 (a lot can happen in forty-five years), and Bucky makes a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of mess with the timelines and canon continuity here a bit. I put Captain Marvel and it's aftermath in 1990, instead of 1995. But it all makes sense, I promise.

* * *

* * *

After arriving in 1990, Steve and Bucky settled into a new but familiar routine. The first thing Steve did was look for a place to bunk down, securing lodging at a hostel for a week. It would take at least that long to find anyone they could possibly trust to get the kind of help they were going to be needing. Despite knowing damn well that no one would be looking for the likes of Steve Rogers and James Barnes in 1990 Manhattan, Steve and Bucky kept to themselves, bothered no one unnecessarily, and never went anywhere alone.

 

It took a month before they were able to make their move, and Steve would forever commit the expression on Nick Fury’s face when he opened the door to them to a special place in memory. Because it couldn’t be every day a pair of missing American heroes suddenly turn up on your doorstep asking for help.  Which is kind of exactly what Steve and Bucky did. Steve knocked on Fury’s door while Bucky watched his six, instinct had Bucky watching the street and all passers-by. It took a while, but the door finally opened and Steve cleared his throat and looked the baffled man who answered right in the eye.

“Mr. Fury, my name is Steve Rogers, and I need your help. Well,  _we_ need your help.”

“Aw, you have  _got_ to be fucking kidding me.” Fury clearly recognized them and poked his head out his front door, “You two need to get off the streets before somebody else recognizes you! Get inside!”

“Thank you, sir.” It was hard for him to refrain from calling Fury “Director”, he wasn’t Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. yet. Once they were off the streets, Fury hustled them to the kitchen, muttering and cursing under his breath, and gave Steve a couple of biologics and some water. He also gave Steve a few minutes of portable oxygen to help the symptoms.

“What the hell are you doing in my house?” Fury asked, standing in front of Steve as he recovered.

“I don’t think you would believe us, sir.” He looked up at Fury, “I’m sorry to inconvenience you like this.”

“You’re a goddamn hero, son, and you look half-dead! Where the hell did you even come from?”

“Wouldn’t believe us.” He muttered, coughing. Fury gave him a bucket to catch the petals and blooms his body expelled in each fit, concern wrinkling his brow and giving a softer edge to his expression. Bucky was completely distracted, he wasn’t even in the kitchen.

“Where did...?” Steve trailed off, coughing.

“Oh, aren’t you a cutie!” Bucky’s voice sounded from somewhere else in the house, “Oh, you’re just adorable! Who are you, then?” A moment later, Bucky appeared wearing a big, goofy smile, carrying a bundle of bright orange fur. It was a cat, Steve realized, currently perched on Bucky’s left shoulder, who was very happy with his new friend.

“Oh, guess who made themselves a new friend?” Fury rolled his eyes and smirked as the cat rubbed against Bucky’s cheek and neck.

“I didn’t know you liked cats!” Bucky was thrilled. “Who is this little beauty?”

“That’s Goose. She’s a recent acquisition, but we get along alright.” Fury smiled at the sight of Bucky and the cat getting cozy with each other. “She usually doesn’t take to strangers that well, but I guess she likes you, Sergeant.”

“Well, I don’t mind at all!” Bucky scratched Goose between the ears. “She’s a Flerken, isn’t she?”

“Yeah.” Fury raised an eyebrow. “How’d you know that?”

“We know Captain Danvers.” Steve took a sip of water.

“Doesn’t surprise me. She seemed to know a lot of interesting people.” Fury smiled a bit at the mention of Carol Danvers. “I’d love to know how a pair of MIA soldiers from World War II met someone like Carol Danvers. She’s a hell of a woman.”

“It’s a...weird story, sir.”

“It’ll be a weirder one as soon as word gets around that you two popped up in Manhattan hot on the heels of the last mix-up we had.”

“Sorry we missed the excitement.” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“No, you’re not.” Fury shook his head. “A couple of alien factions brought their turf-battle to Los Angeles and it got messy.”

“The Skrull and the Kree?” Steve and Bucky shared a glance.

“Yeah. How’d you know that?”

“Told you. We know Vers.”

“Huh.”                      

“What happened to your eye, sir?” Bucky asked, genuinely curious.

“That cute little shit scratched it out when I was dumb enough to let my guard down.” Fury just poked an accusing finger at Goose, who blinked innocently at him and rolled a curious little purr. “You’re a lucky bastard I like you, Goose, or you’d be shit outta luck and homeless to boot.” In a show of defiant affection, Goose abandoned Bucky and hopped up on Steve’s lap for a bit of fussing. Steve chuckled as he was the recipient of a lick-and-nibble before Goose rolled over and presented her belly to him.

“Traitor.” Fury muttered as Steve obliged with a belly-scratch. Steve and Bucky just looked at each other and smiled. This was okay with them, it really was.

 

After finding and introducing themselves to a much younger and less-jaded Nick Fury, Steve and Bucky maintained a low profile as they had before, but this time they had connections. Fury would feed them bits of intel, they would help out on small tasks, and debated the wisdom of coming out in the last decade of the twentieth century. Fury brought them up to speed on what they had missed and how the whole country (and a few Allied countries as well) honestly believed that James Barnes and Steve Rogers had either been killed in 1945 or had gone Missing In Action. The wreck of the  _Valkyrie_ hadn’t been discovered yet, so it was understandable that Steve’s fate would be uncertain.

 

Essentially, they had triggered another timeline, and this was their new future and their past as well. For all they knew, that 1945 Steve Rogers  _had_ died in the crash of the  _Valkyrie_. They wouldn’t know until 2012. They had some serious waiting to do. But that wasn’t what bothered Steve the most. It was the waiting and side-line watching he would be forced to do when Howard and Maria Stark were killed in 1991. His only consolation was that he could be present for a young Tony Stark. That was one encounter he was both looking forward to and dreading, and he would have to wait and see how things unfolded in this new timeline.

 

As Steve and Bucky had suspected, it didn’t take long at all for word to get out that the two of them were, in fact, very much alive. And, since they had never technically been listed Killed In Action, only Missing In Action/Prisoner Of War, their conscriptions to the United States Army were still good and still active. So, after a bit of a media hype about two of the Howling Commandos still being alive in the 20th century (which wasn’t _really_ that big of a deal), and some red-tape and paperwork, the two lifelong friends went _back_ to service together. Someone got smart and kept Steve and Bucky together as best they could. Steve was stuck on desk-duty since he was late-Stage 3 Hanahaki Disease and it was unknown if or when he would progress into Stage 4. After things had calmed down and they’d had a chance to get their heads on right, Steve was content to wait out as long as necessary. But it was fine, it really was.

 

But if there was one thing Steve had learned, it was that things never stayed quiet for long. The first upset came in December of 1991, when word reached them through various channels that the Starks had been killed. Steve and Bucky were both alarmed and saddened by the news, but comforted only by knowing that Bucky was _not_ responsible for the murders of Howard and Maria Stark in this timeline. Someone else had done the evil deed, there was no way it had been a complete accident like they said. Out of a sense of duty, they attended the funeral for Howard and Maria. That was the first time Steve met this timeline’s Tony Stark, who was both very much alike to Steve’s Tony and all at once very, _very_ different. But that was only to be expected, they were completely different people after all.

* * *

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	6. Name Of A Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Tony Stark. 21-year-old troubled genius, orphan, heir to Stark Industries and a legacy he may not be able to live up to. Taking over his father's company is not the only problem Tony is facing, but it might be the simpler one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Origin of Stony here. Pay attention, class, it gets kind of weird.

* * *

 

* * *

The only reason Tony Stark even showed up at his parents’ funeral was because his dad’s friend, Obadiah Stane, dragged him to it. He hadn’t gotten along very well with his old man, so he couldn’t really say he was all that upset. Well, not that he would admit it. But he _was_ upset, losing his parents was devastating. Tony noticed that a lot of his dad’s friends came, he had no idea who most of them were. Of course, he recognized Peggy Carter, who had been a friend of his dad’s since way back when, and Edwin Jarvis was there. But he wasn’t sure about the two men who accompanied his godmother. It wasn’t that he didn’t recognize them, that wasn’t the problem, Tony just wasn’t sure how they might have known Howard Stark. Not to mention, he hadn’t expected Steve Rogers to be so ...  _young_. Young? Well. Yeah. Young. He hadn’t expected Rogers to be so young, or so handsome. Not to mention Barnes.

 

When Barnes and Rogers stepped up to help carry his father’s casket, Tony guessed it shouldn’t have been such a surprise. If it really was the same Steve Rogers and James Barnes his father just wouldn’t shut up about while Tony was growing up. It wasn’t until after the graveside service had concluded and his parents had been committed to the frozen ground that any of them exchanged words.

 

Tony was walking away from the grave-site by himself, hands shoved into his pockets and a lit cigarette stuck between his lips, when he was stopped in his tracks. Not by anyone calling out to him, but by something much subtler. Much less obvious.

“Tony.” It wasn’t a question. Tony looked over his shoulder. It was Rogers, of course it was. No one else could possibly be bold enough to stop him by putting a hand on his shoulder. Stane _might_ have, but Tony didn’t think his dad’s business partner cared enough about Tony to do that.

“Can I help you?” He tucked the cigarette between his fingers and took a deep breath.

“I know...I know you didn’t really get along with your old man.” Rogers said softly, shaking his head as Tony scoffed.

“Yeah, that’s one word for it!”

“I know you didn’t, but Howard Stark was ... one of the finest people I ever knew.” Rogers tightened his grip on Tony’s shoulder, his fingers shaking from more than just the cold. “Knowing him was a true honor, I was proud to call him my friend. And someday I hope you understand just how _good_ of a person your father was.”

“Are we sure we knew the same person, Captain Rogers?” He studied the man in front of him. “Because the man you remember and the one I remember? Ain’t quite the same.”

“I didn’t ... say they were the same.” Rogers coughed, the fit nearly buckled the man’s knees.

“Jesus, are you okay?” Tony was alarmed by the force of the coughing-fit, by the ragged clumps of bloody plant material that landed on the hard ground. “Holy shit.”

“’s okay.” Rogers wheezed, “Not ... in Stage 4 yet.”

“Um. You ... probably shouldn’t be out in this weather, then.” Tony looked around as Barnes handed Rogers a bottle of water. “Come on, let’s get you home, Captain.” Barnes drove them from the cemetery back to a place with great views of Central Park, making a quick stop by Tony’s place so he could grab a change of clothes if he wanted.

Rogers vanished as soon as they got through the door, leaving Tony with Barnes, who told him to make himself at home, pointing the way to a spare bedroom and offering a shower if he wanted one.

“Hey, is ... uh, is he gonna be okay?” Tony asked, looking up the stairs as Barnes went to check on Rogers.

“He’ll be fine, the cold just aggravated the symptoms. The grief didn’t help much, either.” Barnes looked at him curiously. “Howard Stark was one of Steve’s best friends, one of the few who knew him from before.”

“Before?”

“Before the super-soldier serum turned a skinny little punk from Brooklyn into a bulky tall punk from Brooklyn.” Barnes grinned. “No sense of self-preservation on that one, never has been and probably won’t ever be.”

“Oh, so it _is_ him.” Tony murmured, mostly to himself since Barnes was out of earshot.

 

Well, that explained a lot. He hadn’t been imagining things, it really _was_ the same Steve Rogers his dad just wouldn’t shut up about. But something was wrong. He had contracted Hanahaki Disease, and it looked like it was pretty advanced. Tony tried to remember if the disease was terminal and couldn’t. He hadn’t personally known anyone who suffered from Hanahaki Disease, but the stories he’d heard were kind of...gruesome. He didn’t put a lot of stock by romance or the idea of true love, but the thought that someone could suffer so horribly because of it didn’t seem like a really stellar way to live your life.

 

Of course, it wasn’t like he had a lot of room to pity those who endured the condition and all its terrible symptoms and consequences. He’d been coughing a lot more lately and been disgustingly short of breath, something as simple as walking to the bathroom left him wheezing. But there was nothing definite on any of the scans, despite the coughing and shortness of breath.

 

Taking up the offer of a hot shower, Tony took a few minutes to himself and got cleaned up. After taking a shower, he got dressed in the change of clothes he’d brought with him and cleaned up the bathroom, making sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind. He debated on leaving Rogers and Barnes, he felt like he’d intruded in something he didn’t have a right to. And he knew that if he was having trouble processing the grief of losing his parents, it would be worse for Rogers.

 

Deciding to excuse himself, Tony found his dad’s buddies upstairs. Of course, by the time he reached the bedroom, he was wheezing like a chain-smoking asthmatic on Bingo night. Barnes, apparently unfazed by Tony suddenly showing up like that, steered him to a bathroom and leaned against the sink while he coughed so hard he threw up.

“T-that’s new.” He muttered, spitting out shredded flower petals. Definitely new, and definitely bad.

“Stage 3?”

“Must ... be.” He lowered his head as another wave hit him. 

“I thought you looked off-color because of the weather, kid.” Barnes shook his head and gave Tony a glass of water and some meds. “You’ve got a good doctor you can see?”

“Uh. Yeah? Sort of?” He looked up at Barnes, “Why?”

“Call them. ASAP. Tell them you’re progressing.”

“When it rains, it pours.” Tony sighed and lowered his head against, resting it on his forearms.

 

Barnes got him up and drove him home, reassuring him that it was perfectly safe to leave Rogers for a few hours.

“I just hope whoever it is isn’t dead.” He said softly as he sat shotgun to Barnes, looking out at the busy, crowded streets of Manhattan. The city just didn’t ... feel the same.

“Hmm?” Barnes looked over at him curiously.

“Whoever this is because of.” He tapped his chest. “I really hope they’re not dead. Whoever it is.”

“Any ideas?”

“Nope. Not a clue.” He coughed, taking the tissue Barnes handed him. “Thanks.”

“I’ve watched Steve get worse and worse, I just hope you don’t end up like that.” Barnes looked sad. “And your parents dying, it just ... It’s hard, y’know?”

“Dad used to talk about him all the time. Just wouldn’t shut up about Steve Rogers and what a ... what a hero he was, how nice he was. Knew what was what, knew what mattered, still did whatever it took to get the job done. Headfirst into danger, unafraid of a damn thing.”

“Yeah, that’s Steve alright.” Barnes chuckled, “Never really got over that lack of self-preservation. He’s always been like that, long as I’ve known ‘im.”

“How long _have_ you known him, then?”

“We were kids in Brooklyn together, back in the twenties and thirties. We did everything together.”

“Everything?”

“Everything except the Army. I was drafted and he was too sickly.” Barnes looked at him. “I can’t tell you how many times I dragged his sorry ass out of a back-alley fistfight, or out of a recruiting station before he got himself into trouble for lying on his enlistment forms. He was this scrappy little shit from a poor family who just wanted to make a difference in the world.”

“Well, he sure as hell made a difference.” Tony wondered what it had been like back then, growing up during the Great Depression, dreaming of better things only to be told again and again that you weren’t able to do any of them. And then, somehow, finding a way to do it.

 

Tony had grown up hearing stories of Rogers, he had looked at old pictures and propaganda film footage from World War II when Rogers had toured with the USO and later on active duty with the Army. Steve Rogers had been a hero to him almost as long as he’d been alive. He had daydreamed about meeting him, talking to him, just ... spending time with him. Just to get an idea of what kind of person would have had so much influence, such an impact, on his father’s life and work.

 

He liked to think that Steve Rogers was one of his father’s major successes in his life. And was glad that at least there was one thing in his life for Howard Stark to be really proud of. Even when Tony couldn’t live up to his father’s standards, there had always been someone else who could. But, to his credit, Howard Stark had almost never used the “Steve Rogers was X” argument against Tony. At least, never directly. Indirect comparisons were a regular thing, anecdotes dropped when his father was particularly displeased about something Tony had done. But it wasn’t an insult, it was Howard Stark trying to push his son to try harder and do better.

 

“Wander off there, Stark?” Barnes’ voice and a touch on his arm pulled Tony out of his head and he looked over.

“Jesus. Sorry about that.” He looked out the window and saw they were near his apartment. How long had they been stopped? How long had he been completely out of it?

“No problem, kid. Come on, you’re home.” Barnes squeezed his arm, getting out of the car first. Tony hurried after him and looked over the car at Barnes.

“Hey, uh, thanks for the ride, Sergeant.”

“Any time, kid.” Barnes just grinned. “Call me Bucky.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Okay. Cool!” He smiled. “Bucky. What’s that for?”

“Buchanan, if you can believe that.” A grimace. “James Buchanan Barnes is the whole of it.”

“You got me beat.”

“What’s yours, then?”

“Anthony Edward Stark.” Tony rolled his eyes. “You can imagine I heard “Anthony Edward Stark!” a _lot_ growing up.”

“Always in That Voice, too, I bet.”

“Oh, yeah.” He found his keys and gave them to Barnes when the man held out one hand to him. “Every damn time.”

“I’ll just call you Tony.” Barnes held the door of his apartment building for him and followed him to his unit. “You don’t seem like much of an Anthony.”

“Never really felt like one, sure didn’t act like one.” He shrugged as they took the elevator to his floor. “Thanks for the ride home, I could’ve just gotten a cab or something.”

“Steve would murder me in my sleep if I let you out of my sight.” Barnes made a face and unlocked the door of Tony’s unit for him. “Take care of yourself, Tony. Call if you need anything. And see your doctor sooner than later.”

“Yeah, thanks. I will.” Tony took a card with a phone number on it and turned it over in his hand. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“Get some rest, kid.” Bucky squeezed his shoulder and gave him a sad smile before he disappeared again. Locking up after himself, Tony looked around his apartment and sighed. Well, that could have been a lot worse. Deciding to get some sleep, since he didn’t have much energy left to do much else, Tony trudged to his bedroom. Dumping his clothes in a heap, he collapsed on the bed and burrowed into the blankets, groaning. His chest hurt and his throat felt raw, he knew it was getting worse. Worry about that later. Sleep now. Recover. Mourn.

* * *

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	7. Take A Chance On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve makes a choice that will affect his entire future and Tony Stark's as well. But...he can't be too sorry about it, it's okay to be selfish every now and again. And with Bucky's blessing, it's time to take that one small step. Fingers crossed and here we go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Endgame: Amendment. But don't worry, I have a sequel in the planning as we speak! Stay tuned, folks!

 

* * *

* * *

Steve Rogers knew he was running out of time, and running out of time fast, but he didn’t feel like pushing too hard. Just because he knew that he loved Tony, and loved him enough his body was doing a bizarre kind of bio-botanical switch-up, that didn’t mean Tony loved him back. Not even after Bucky came back from dropping the mouthy twenty-one-year-old genius at his place, and basically charged into their shared apartment wearing a huge smile.

“What are _you_ smiling at?” Steve grouched, hoarse from coughing and slightly-muffled by the oxygen mask.

“You can suffer in good company!”

“Pardon?”

“Tony Stark’s in Stage 3.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing!” He glared at Bucky, who seemed far too excited by this new knowledge.

“Well, if you’re the one he’s pining after, it’s definitely a good thing! All _I_ have to worry about is getting you two morons over yourselves before one or both of you die on me.” Bucky shrugged, giving him a hard look he was unfortunately far too familiar with. “I did _not_ spend three years following you all over Europe and then get myself kidnapped and brainwashed by HYDRA in whatever timeline you came from, only to come back and try to kill you more than once, just for _you_ to show up here half-dead and too damn stubborn to do a thing about it!”

“Bucky…”

“Did you ever tell me _why_ you got so sick?” Bucky kept talking, completely ignoring Steve’s objections. “I mean, I thought you being the first Super Soldier and all that would make it damn near impossible for you to get more than a cold.”

“Oh, you wish.” Steve coughed, “Hanahaki Disease doesn’t give two spits if you’re a Super Soldier or some poor kid from Chicago. If you get it, you’d better hope the source of the disease is still alive and it ain’t a one-way street.”

“I am not going to let you die, Steve. This is a damn bad time to be stubborn, kid. Don’t make this little adventure through time of yours a waste _of_ time or effort. You put a lot of both into this.”

“I’m not _that_ selfish, Bucky.”

“You _need_ to be that selfish! And if you won’t make the first move, then I will!”

“I knew you were going to say that.” He leaned back heavily in his chair, suddenly tired and short of breath. It was just like the days before he’d become Captain America, before the super soldier serum turned him into a pinnacle of human fitness and endurance, when walking down the block left him wheezing and a few blocks made him tired.

 

Bucky looked sad as he helped Steve out of the chair and through the apartment to his bedroom. After giving him a double-dose of the most effective biologic they had on hand, Bucky let him drink a glass of water and made sure he didn’t need anything else before leaving him to sleep it off, the soft hiss of the oxygen tank lulling him to sleep.

 

It was New Year’s Eve before anything really changed. Well, before anything changed enough that Steve actually paid attention. He had been spending quite a bit of his free time with Tony Stark, and since he’d been put on paid medical leave from the Army as soon as he hit full Stage 4, he had plenty of that to spare. But it didn’t take long for him to notice that he didn’t feel quite _as_ miserable when he was around Tony, breathing wasn’t such a chore, his chest didn’t hurt as much, he didn’t feel so groggy. He thought it was just the fact that he was regularly double-dosing himself with the strongest biologics he could get hands on, but it seemed to be more than just that.

 

Of course, considering that certain intimate relationships were still deeply frowned upon and more or less forbidden in the nineties, he wasn’t in a big rush to look too closely at the source or results. Steve had long ago made his peace with his own sexuality, celebrating a bit of a late coming-out in the mid-2000s when marriage laws changed and same-sex relationships were more or less a normal, accepted part of everyday life. Certain people still looked sideways at those of different sexualities and gender identities, but for the most part, no one really cared anymore if you loved the same gender or a different one. Or no gender at all. The free-love mentality of the 60s and 70s, which he had missed completely, was a reality now. Not quite in the 90s as it had been in the late 2000s, so he still had to be careful.

 

The turning point came one night while Steve and Bucky were at home, enjoying a quiet evening of trash-television and reading. There were a few things from the 21st century that Steve missed, but he knew if he just waited a while, he’d experience them again. For one, cell-phones. He missed good cell-phones.

 

And he was reminded of this when their land-line rang. Very few people called them at home, most of their acquaintances used pagers and waited for them to call back. He looked at Bucky, who checked the caller-id before shrugging.

“Think this one’s for you, Boss,” Bucky said calmly, turning back to his newspaper. Steve made a rude gesture that just got a chuckle from Bucky as he answered the phone, and an unsubtle, smug “Language.”

 _“This is Rogers.”_ He said after clearing his throat.

 _“Hey, Steve.”_ A familiar, hoarse voice came over the line and Steve almost dropped the phone.

 _“Tony?”_ He double-checked the caller-id, just to make sure. Yes, it was definitely Tony Stark. But he sounded like hell.

_“Are you…are you okay?”_

_“Yeah, yeah! No, I’m fine!”_ Which was a huge lie and they both knew it. _“Hey, listen, I was just calling to see if you and Bucky were busy tonight?”_

 _“Uh, hang on a minute.”_ He had the phone on speaker and looked across at Bucky, who was shaking his head.

 _“We’re not too busy, Stark.”_ Bucky said cheerfully, _“But I’ve got work in the morning, so I can’t be out too late.”_

_“Well, that’s okay. I was just hoping I could coax you guys out for dinner.”_

_“Dinner? Where?”_ That got Steve’s attention.

_“My place? I’d love some company, and some help cutting down on left-overs?”_

_“Left-overs?”_ He was mildly intrigued.

 _“I accidentally over-ordered from that Chinese place by my apartment and there’s no way I could ever eat all of it fast enough.”_ Steve could just see the shame-faced expression on Tony’s face.

 _“Oh, sure!”_ Steve smiled. _“Give us a few minutes and we’ll be on our way over!”_

 _“Hey, Tony?”_ Steve had a thought and tried to catch Tony before he hung up.

_“Yeah?”_

_“Uh, wh-what kind of beer do you drink?”_

_“Oh, shit. Surprise me, I’ll drink just about anything.”_

_“Okay. I guess I’ll make a quick stop on the way. See you in a few, Tony!”_

_“See you, Steve!”_ Tony sounded much happier as they hung up and Steve looked at Bucky, who wore a familiar, knowing smile.

“You’re not coming, are you?” He knew that smile.

“Nope!” Bucky just shook his head as he got to his feet and came over to help Steve. “Come on, let’s get you ready for your date.”

“Is it a date, though?”

“Yes, because I said it was. And this is going to be your … fourth or fifth date with Tony?” Bucky ushered him into his bedroom and while he took a shower, Bucky picked out something for him to wear. He might feel like walking death most of the time, but he wouldn’t say no to any excuse to see Tony and spend time with him. He didn’t feel as sick when he was around Tony, even just hearing his voice helped.

 

Half an hour later, Steve let himself into Tony’s Chelsea penthouse and made sure to close and lock the door behind him. He pocketed his keys and looked around the place. The penthouse had been half-heartedly decorated for Christmas the last time he’d visited, but he could tell that Edwin Jarvis had been _very_ busy making sure the place looked suitably cheerful and the decorations remained up even on the brink of a new year. No sign of Tony, of course, but Jarvis emerged like magic and took one good look at Steve and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, Captain.”

“Yeah, I know.” Steve handed over what he’d brought with him. “Where’s Tony?”

“Upstairs. I’m afraid he’s gotten quite a bit worse.” The concern in Jarvis’s voice told Steve that it was a good thing he’d come.

“Jesus, we’re both stubborn idiots.” He shook his head, thinking back on all of the times he and Tony had fought, bickered, and made up. The Civil War had almost broken them both, it had certainly tarnished Tony’s trust in Steve. But they had remained fast friends until Tony’s death. Steve had risked time-travel and rejection to find Tony, hadn’t he?

“Go, Captain. Go upstairs. I’ll give you two some time.” Jarvis took Steve’s hand in his and looked at the dark discoloration on his skin. Steve handed over his jacket and crash-helmet, blushing a little when Jarvis just raised an eyebrow. Jarvis knew damn well he owned a motorcycle, he didn’t have to look so surprised.

“Thanks, Jeeves.” He squeezed the old man’s hand and headed up to the second floor, making his way to Tony’s bedroom. He followed the sound of coughing and let himself in after knocking. Tony was in the bathroom, hunched over the toilet, and Steve knew it was bad. Shaking his head, he wet a washcloth and knelt behind the younger man, putting both hands on his shoulders.

“Don’t fight it, Tony. Just let it come.” He coached.

“S-Steve?”

“I’m right here, buddy.” He smiled and squeezed Tony’s shoulder. He felt the body under his hands slump and heard a ragged, broken groan.

 

Steve just sat behind Tony and rubbed his neck and shoulders until his body had stopped rebelling. He gave Tony water and the strongest biologic he could find in the first-aid kit, apologizing for the discomfort when Tony whined.

“I’m coughing up bloody flowers and you’re apologizing for a needle-stick?” Tony asked with a chuckle, leaning back against Steve, which he hadn’t expected him to do.

“I don’t like causing someone more pain if I don’t have to.” He said quietly, remaining absolutely still.

“Y’know something, Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Doesn’t…hurt as much when you’re around.” Tony’s voice was soft and hoarse, and Steve froze. Something in his chest jumped.

“What’s that?”

“It doesn’t hurt when you and me … when we’re together.” He coughed a little, but it wasn’t productive. “I know it sounds like crazy-talk, but … Stage 3, man, I’ll take any relief I can get my hands on!”

“That’s … interesting.”

“I just feel … selfish.” Tony sniffled and leaned back more. Steve unconsciously tightened his grip, one hand sliding around so his arm was wrapped around Tony.

“Why?”

“Because you’re still suffering. That … that ain’t fair.”

“Oh, Tony.” He pressed his forehead to the tee-shirt clad shoulders. “Who said I was?”

“You _look_ awful. Like … small children would be terrified if they saw you. But … ”

“Good days and bad ones, Stark.”

“Is this a good day?”

“Well, it wasn’t. But it’s certainly looking to be a very … interesting New Year’s Eve.”

“Oh, is it New Year’s Eve?”

“Mhm.”

“Jesus, I hadn’t even noticed!”

“Come on, Tony.” Steve smiled and untangled himself to get up.

“Where are you going?” Tony just looked up at him, confused and petulant.

“I can think of about six different places I’d rather sit with you than the floor of your bathroom. Come on, get up.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not spending New Year’s Eve sitting on your bathroom floor if I don’t have to. There’s food and beer downstairs, so get a move on.” He pulled Tony to his feet and ushered him out of the bathroom. And Tony might have over-ordered from the local Chinese place, but Steve would be damned if he and Tony got caught eating out of the take-out containers like uncivilized heathens. They might try, just to give Jarvis a heart-attack.

 

Making their way downstairs, Steve was very much aware of when Tony took his hand and held on. He was okay with this, he really was. It was more than he had dared to hope for and wasn’t brave enough to ask for. Steve had lived for so long lying to himself and everyone else to save himself, it was still very strange to think that there was a future in which two consenting adults of legal age and identical gender could have an open, lawful relationship. Civil unions and the like were still very common, especially in the last half of the 20th century and the first decade of the 21st century, but knowing he didn’t have to hide so much of himself anymore made Steve so much happier.

 

When they got to the kitchen, they found take-out boxes arranged on the counter and the beer Steve had brought along chilling in a champagne-bucket filled with ice. A second bucket contained a bottle of champagne Steve wasn’t sure he even wanted to consider the price-tag for, but he knew that was for the stroke of midnight. Say farewell to the old year and hello to the new one with a champagne toast right when the clock struck twelve.

 

He and Tony took a few minutes to divvy up the food, carrying the containers to the living room, where they settled in front of the television and watched…something. Steve wasn’t sure what they were watching and didn’t really care. He was spending time with Tony, and that’s all that mattered.

 

Steve wasn’t sure how he had expected to spend his New Year’s Eve, but he imagined that his current situation was far preferable. Jarvis did roll his eyes in exasperation as Steve and Tony ate out of the take-out containers, stealing each other’s food, drinking, laughing, and just enjoying themselves and the company of each other. But they couldn’t forget their shared sickness, the discoloration of their skin and the persistent coughing fits were constant reminders.

 

“Tony?” Steve asked in a moment of quiet.

“Hmm?” Tony’s response was more of a noise than an actual word.

“Did you … ever get yourself to see a doctor?”

“Hmm?” He felt Tony shift next to him, braced himself for Tony to move away from him. “Oh, what? Yeah. I did.”

“Good. What’d they say?”

“Stage 3 good and proper, but it seems to have … stalled? I guess?”

“Who did you end up seeing?”

“Some guy over at Metro-General, a bit of a know-it-all.”

“You must get along swimmingly.” Steve rolled his eyes. “What’s his name?”

“Er. Strange.”

“Hmm?”

“His name is Strange.”

“His last name _is_ Strange, or he _has_ a strange last name?” Steve had to ask, because he _knew_ Stephen Strange, just not _this_ Stephen Strange.

“His last name is Strange. Stephen Strange, I think. I’ve got his card somewhere.”

“Huh.”

“You’re not looking for a doctor, are you? A, uh, HB specialist?”

“Yeah, I am, actually. I probably should have one already, but finding someone who actually knows what the hell they’re doing is harder than it should be.” Steve shrugged, coughing a bit. “Especially for Hanahaki Disease. People look at you like you grew three heads or something when you show up with that.”

“Sit tight, I’ll grab his card.” Tony patted him on the thigh and hopped to his feet. He wasn’t gone very long, and Steve made good use of the nearby oxygen-tank while he was gone.  When Tony returned, he handed Steve a business-card.

“That’s his card. I have an appointment to see him on Thursday. Follow-up.”

“When?”

“It’s on the back of the card.” Tony sat down next to him as he turned the card over and read the appointment date and time. Steve nodded and made a note to himself to make sure he was available on Thursday, January 2, at 8:30 am.

“I’ll go with you.”

“You want to?”

“Yeah. I want to.” He gave Tony the card back and took his hand.

“Oh.” Tony looked kind of confused. “Why? I can think of a hundred things you could do besides tag along to a boring doctor’s appointment.”

“You shouldn’t do this by yourself,” Steve said softly, looking at the younger man.

“What?”

“Hm?”

“You keep looking at me with this heartbroken look on your face. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” Tony leaned in close to him. “Dad always did say you were a rotten liar, Steve Rogers. What’s up?”

“You said earlier that you didn’t want to be selfish.” He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Bucky just a few hours ago. “Bucky said something before I left to come over here.”

“Yeah?” Tony took a sip of beer and looked at him sideways, “What excuse did he come up with for not coming?”

“He didn’t, actually. He just … decided not to come.” Steve sighed. “He told me that I had to be selfish, just for once in my life. And if … if _I_ didn’t make the first move, he would make it for me.”

“What first move?”

“Tell me this is one-sided and I will never bother you again, Tony.” He studied soft brown eyes, missing some of the wisdom and wrinkles of the much older Tony Stark he had met and loved, even if that _had_ been one-sided and unspoken. At least, he thought it had been one-sided.

 

Steve was fully prepared to leave the penthouse and walk out of Tony’s life. He was prepared to have his struggling heart broken, figuring it was the least he deserved for past sins and transgressions. So, he was surprised when, instead of giving him a verbal answer, Tony did something quite different. Steve, uncomfortable with the extended silence that had fallen between them, raised his head to apologize for being so forward.

“I’m sorry, Tony, that was … ” He was stopped in his tracks by a touch. Without a word, Tony leaned in once they were looking at each other properly, and kissed him. It was hesitant, uncertain, but it was … perfect. As perfect as any first kiss could be.

“Please shut up, Steve.” Tony murmured as he pulled away to catch his breath.

“Wow.” Steve exhaled sharply. “What was that for?”

“You started doubting.” Tony tilted his head, “And that won’t do.”

“Christ. You’re only twenty-one! You’re not supposed to be that smart!”

“Yes, I am.” Tony smiled, and it lit up the room. “And no, for your information. It’s not one-sided. It never was one-sided, and it never will be.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like we can tell the whole fucking world right now, but … ” Tony got shy, his cheeks reddening from the emotions, and ducked his head, “Well, is it really any of their goddamn business?”

“I think I should be counting my lucky stars your old man’s not around, or he’d be kicking my ass for even thinking about this.” Steve smiled. “So, what do we do?”

“Ring in 1992 with a glass of champagne and a kiss, and hope to Christ this actually works.” Tony looked at his watch. “I really don’t feel like dying because I couldn’t admit I loved someone else.”

“Well, aren’t we a pair of proper idiots.” Steve smiled and decided to get the champagne. Jarvis had put the bucket on the coffee table for them, all they had to do was open the bottle and help themselves. Steve poured a glass for each of them and they watched the ball-drop and fireworks in Time’s Square on TV. As the clock struck midnight, Steve turned to Tony and held up his glass.

“Happy New Year, Mr. Stark.”

“Happy New Year, Captain Rogers.” Tony smiled at him as they touched glasses, and leaned up for that promised New Year’s Eve kiss. It kind of amused Steve that Tony had to get up on tip-toe to kiss him, it was…cute. Not that he would ever admit that out loud, of course.

‘Please,’ he thought, ‘please let this work out.’

 

Steve made himself a promise that night, he would _not_ interfere in Tony’s life. Tony had a whole life ahead of him. Everything that made him the man Steve had known would still have to happen, Steve would not get in his way. No matter what, no matter how hard it was to stand by, how tempting it was to change something small. He would remain a supportive friend, more if Tony asked it of him.

* * *

* * *

 


End file.
